


Damage

by Teeelsie



Series: Shocks of Adversity 'Verse [3]
Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: Coda, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, S05e18
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-09
Updated: 2015-03-09
Packaged: 2018-03-17 01:44:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,144
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3510515
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Teeelsie/pseuds/Teeelsie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve and Danny deal with the fallout from Danny's incarceration in Colombia - and Doris' (oblique) return.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Damage

**Author's Note:**

> I'm always a little bothered by television's way of having characters bounce back from severe injuries as though they are nothing. I know that it's television, and there's only so much they can do in a weekly show, but it always leaves me wanting more !whump. Case in point, that beating Danny took should have left him much worse off than it apparently did - so this is my coda to address that.
> 
> This story takes place in the Shocks of Adversity 'Verse, which is more-or-less Doris-related. Having her turn up in this ep - however obliquely - drew me back to this version of the boys again.
> 
> And thanks, as always, to my beta, KippyVee! If there are any mistakes, they are mine, because, once again, she gave me a perfect document and I tinkered a little bit more before posting.

 

 

Steve watches as Danny struggles to make his way down the stairs of the airplane. He had waved off his CIA escort, apparently determined to make it under his own volition, but also oozing contempt for the attendant who was trying to help. When the door had opened, Steve’s heart raced as he caught his first glimpse of his partner, and he had almost cried out in shock, seeing the damage on Danny’s face. But Danny’s expression is showing nothing at all as he descends from the airplane that has just returned him from Colombia. Steve knows that face though; it’s Danny’s poker face… the blank one he puts on the surface when there is, in fact, much more going on underneath. So Steve schools his features quickly, determined to retain at least as much control as Danny himself is able.

 

But sure enough, as soon as Danny gets to the bottom of the narrow stairway, his face contorts in pain and he practically collapses into Steve’s arms, emitting a gut-wrenching sound as he does. Steve tries to hold on to his partner but Danny pulls back immediately. “No… don’t… I can’t… it hurts,” Danny gasps, his breath coming in ragged pants.

 

Steve looks at Danny, wide-eyed with concern; up close he can see each and every abrasion and bruise on his partner’s face. “Danny, Jesus, come on, we need to get you to the hospital.”

 

“ _No!_ No… I need to see Grace. Please, Steve, take me to see Grace,” he sounds frenzied and desperate.

 

Steve looks at Danny, torn between the two things he knows his partner needs at this moment: medical care from doctors for his body, and psychic care from his daughter for his soul. He knows what Danny wants, but he can’t ignore what he’s seeing. “Danny… just a quick check and then I’ll take you right to Grace.”

 

“No, God, please, Steve. I just need to see my baby. _Please_.”

 

Steve hesitates, looking into Danny’s eyes as he pleads to go to his daughter; there is something wild, and frantic there that Steve has never seen before. Danny is stooped – guarding - clearly in significant pain, but his only thought is of Gracie, and Steve isn’t quite sure what Danny might do to if Steve refuses. But, the way he is looking at Steve, he wouldn’t put it past Danny to leave and go to Grace on his own, and Steve is _not_ letting Danny out of his sight anytime soon. “Yeah, okay Danno… lets go see Gracie,” he reluctantly concedes.

 

He tries to wrap an arm around his partner to help him to the truck, but, again, Danny shrugs him off. “Don’t touch me, please… just not right now. It just… it hurts,” Danny says, not quite able to meet Steve’s eyes. Steve’s concern about Danny’s condition is growing exponentially; if Danny can’t even bear to be touched, what exactly is he going to find when Danny takes off that shirt. The idea of it is starting to terrify him.

 

“Jesus, Danny, what did they do to you?” Steve asks quietly.

 

“It’s just a few bruises – I’ll be fine – but they… they hurt…”

 

Steve doesn’t say anything more, his mind racing with concern, but he hovers near as Danny hobbles away from the plane, still not entirely convinced that his partner isn’t going to collapse any second. Steve almost wishes he would, so that he’d have an excuse to ignore Danny’s demand to see Grace and get him to a hospital immediately. His partner is moving slowly and gingerly; obviously in great pain, and Steve clenches his jaw, thinking about how he wants to go back and beat the shit out of that scumbag from the CIA – give him twice the pummeling that Danny clearly has taken.

 

They drive in relative silence to Rachel’s house; Danny in pain and exhausted beyond measure, and Steve so angry that he can hardly form words, busy planning each punch he wants to deliver to Alexander’s face. Danny eventually asks if Steve has talked to Grace and Steve tells him about the conversation they had a couple of days before; he tries not to make it sound as distressing as it had truly been. He does tell Danny that Grace had had questions about whether Danny had really killed someone – he wants him to be prepared in case Grace asks the same of him when he sees her shortly. Danny is quiet, not commenting, and Steve glances at his partner and can see that he’s turning that over in his mind, probably trying to decide how he will answer her if she asks again. He gives Danny a few moments to think about that before he adds that he had called her again when Danny was arriving and told her that he was safe and he would see her soon.

 

“Thank you,” Danny says, his eyes closed, clearly not wanting to talk anymore, so Steve lets it go for now; he and Danny will have plenty of time to discuss it later, but he knows his partner well enough to know that now is not the time to try to continue the conversation.

 

Steve continues to make quick sidelong glances at Danny, and each time he does, his rage ignites anew. Danny looks like hell: his face is bruised and swollen; he’s pale and shaking slightly; he’s dirty and in the same clothes he had left in days before. He wishes, again, that he could see under those clothes – see what Danny’s body looks like – though he’s also afraid of what he will see because he is damn sure it will not be a pretty sight. He’s seen Danny hurt or wounded before: the bullet that grazed him the first day they met; hobbling with a cane when his knee acts up; even with a fucking piece of rebar sticking out of his gut. But he has never seen Danny in pain like this before – a pain that shuts down his characteristic bitching - and turns him stoic, clearly using every ounce of energy he has just to keep it together.

 

When they get to Rachel’s, he watches Danny marshal reserves of strength that Steve can’t believe he has, and step out of the truck. Danny is still moving slowly, but when he sees Grace, he picks up his pace and moves as quickly as he can toward his daughter. Based on Danny’s reactions to Steve’s slightest touches earlier, Steve is astounded at how Danny is able to hide his injuries from Grace; picking her up and squeezing her to himself must have been physically torturous. But, Danny never lets Grace see that. And seeing the look of pure relief and happiness on Danny’s face as he holds his daughter in his arms, Steve knows he did the right thing to bring Danny here first - instead of the hospital - and his conscience eases a little bit.

 

Steve watches the reunion from his truck, overcome by his own emotions and overwhelming relief at being able to keep his promise to Grace. Steve loves that little girl more profoundly than he had ever imagined possible, and that conversation he had had to have with her a few days before was one of the most difficult of his life. He watches as Danny sits with Grace and hugs her close, knowing the pain Danny must be in, but never seeing a flicker of it pass Danny’s face in front of his daughter. At first she had looked at him with fear and concern – how could she not, the bruises on his face telling a terrifying story – but soon enough, Danny’s smiles and laughter coax the same out of Grace.

 

While Steve had been distracted by his conversation with Joe, contemplating Doris’ return and the damage she has once again wreaked, Rachel had apparently come outside, and as Joe drives away, he looks up to see her approaching.

 

“Commander,” Rachel acknowledges him, tension clear in her voice and every line of her body. He and Rachel have something of an equilibrium in their relationship, but Danny is the one who has the most contact with her. Steve’s interactions with her are limited, but when circumstances necessitate it, they are cordial and friendly enough. However it is immediately clear that Steve is about see a side of Rachel that he hasn’t seen before; the one that had Danny using the music from ‘Psycho’ as his ringtone for her when they first met.

 

“Hello, Rachel.”

 

“Would you please explain to me what the hell is going on?” Her anger is barely contained.

 

Steve sighs and runs a hand down his face. “It’s complicated,” Steve starts, not really sure at all what he could or should tell her. Hell, he doesn’t really even know half of it himself.

 

“That’s not good enough this time. A few days ago, my daughter’s father was arrested for murder in front of her and all her classmates, and handcuffed and taken away. Two days ago, she received a call from him from an overseas number, which left her terrified and hysterical…”

 

 _“What? He called Grace?”_ Steve is stunned to hear that.

 

“…and now he shows up here beaten to a pulp and looking like he’s about to fall over dead any second. _What the bloody hell is going on?!_ ” Rachel is seething and losing her composure in a way Steve has never seen before.

 

Steve is floored by what Rachel has said: Danny called Grace? His mind is reeling as he looks between the irate woman standing in front of him and his partner, hunched over on the bench in the yard with his daughter. “Rachel, I’m sorry, there’s not much I can tell you right now. It has to do with Matt and the man who killed him, but Danny needs to tell you that story, and quite honestly, I don’t know much more than you do at this moment. I picked him up at the airport and he insisted that I bring him here. He didn’t say much about anything on the way over here, and given the state he was in, I didn’t think I should press him.”

 

“At the airport? Where was he?” she asked, sounding extremely annoyed.

 

Steve hesitates… “In a Colombian prison.”

 

“Oh God,” Rachel gasps, her hand at her mouth, all the fight visibly leaving her body. She darts a quick look over at Danny and then looks back at Steve. “What did they do to him?” she whispers, sounding horrified.

 

Steve looks toward Danny and Grace, sitting not far away. “I honestly don’t know, Rachel. He’s hurt. More badly than he’s letting on, I think. I wanted to take him to the hospital to get him checked over, but he insisted on coming here first. Which… I guess I can understand.”

 

  
“Yes… I… suppose,” she replies, thinking about how terrified and despondent Grace had been during the last few days, and how relieved she was to hear he was home and she would see him soon.

 

“Mom! Uncle Steve!” Grace calls out to them, and Steve and Rachel both shift their gaze back to the two on the bench. Steve can see Danny flagging and he sprints over to his partner’s side, Rachel just a few steps behind.

 

“I think Danno needs to rest,” Grace says tenderly and with concern, looking at her father and holding his hand.

 

“Kids…” Danny says looking at Steve and Rachel. “They always think they know better than their parents,” Danny rasps quietly.

 

“Danny, you do look like you need to lie down. Let the Commander take you now, and I’ll bring Grace by to see you tomorrow,” Rachel says, a gentleness in her voice that surprises Steve.

 

Danny hesitates for a couple of seconds and then briefly closes his eyes. “Yeah, okay,” he says opening them again and looking at Grace. “You’re too smart for your own good, Monkey. But I love you more than anything in the world, and I am so happy to be home with you now.” Danny bends down and drops a light kiss on the top of Grace’s head.

 

Grace beams up at her father. “I love you too, Danno. I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”

 

Rachel takes Grace’s hand and leads her to the house, both of them looking back over their shoulders a few times before they get inside. Danny waits until they are out of view and then visibly deflates, breathing out a shaky breath. “Thank you. Really, just… thank you.”

 

Steve doesn’t say anything but stands and takes Danny’s left hand in his own and then gently wraps his other hand around Danny’s left elbow, easing his partner up and off the bench. This time, Danny lets him help him to the car and Steve settles his partner in, carefully pulling the seatbelt across and buckling it while Danny tries to hide his grimace.

 

As Steve gets in the car, Danny rolls his head to look at his partner. “I know what you’re going to say, but please, will you just take me home?”

 

“Danny, you need…”

 

“What I need, more than anything else at this moment, is to go home, and get into my own bed, and sleep. Please, Steve. If you take me to the hospital, I’ll be there for hours for no reason. It’s just some bruises. Please… _please_ … God, I just want to be in my own bed. Please, Steve. I really, really need that right now.”

 

Steve looks at Danny and considers his plea. The two of them have been in the reverse situation more times than either would like to count – and Steve always wants to skip the hospital, too. Sometimes Danny lets him, and sometimes he tells Steve to shut up and forces him into medical care anyway.

 

Reluctantly, Steve nods. Part of him has just given in to the desperation he hears in Danny’s voice, but if he’s completely honest with himself, a large part of his decision is based on the fact that all he selfishly wants right now is to take Danny home and wrap him in his arms – to comfort Danny from every terrible thing that must have happened in the last few days - but also to seek the comfort of knowing that Danny is safe.

 

Danny sighs in relief at Steve’s acquiescence. “Thank you,” he whispers again, and closes his eyes against the headrest.  

 

When they get home, Steve unbuckles the seatbelt and runs around to open Danny’s door, and Danny takes Steve’s hand as he eases out of the truck. Danny pauses for a second and squeezes his eyes shut, trembling as a wave of pain rolls through his entire body. His right knee starts to buckle a little, but Steve’s grip on his hand holds him up.

 

“Danny, are you sure…?” Steve starts, but Danny just grunts and starts walking toward the house in response to Steve’s unfinished question. Steve helps Danny up the stairs as best he can, but Danny protests whenever Steve touches him beyond his grip on his hand. The best Steve can do is to stay right behind Danny as he, oh so slowly, takes the steps one at a time, holding onto the hand rail and moving as though he is 90 years old. It’s clear that he had expended nearly every bit of reserve energy he had on maintaining the façade for Grace; he is obviously depleted and near the end of his endurance.

 

When they get upstairs, Steve starts to steer him toward the bedroom but Danny grunts and heads toward the bathroom instead. “Danny, you need to rest,” Steve urges.

 

“I need to shower… Jesus, it’s been days… I need a shower – that place was filthy - I just… I need a shower.” Again, Steve hears desperation in Danny’s voice, and again, he reluctantly gives in to his partner’s apparent need.

 

Steve follows his partner into the bathroom. “Let me help you,” he says, as he sees Danny fumbling at the buttons of his shirt with shaking hands. He is honestly surprised when Danny doesn’t protest, but just drops his arms to his side and lets Steve continue. As soon as the first button is opened, Steve can begin to see bruising peeking out from the top of his t-shirt, and as he gently pulls the blue shirt off of Danny’s shoulders and down his arms, Steve hisses in horror as he sees what is revealed. Danny’s shoulders and arms are covered in deep bruises – nearly every inch from elbow to shoulder – no wonder Danny wouldn’t let him touch him.

 

“Danny…” Steve says, barely more than whisper, staring at Danny’s body.

 

“Steve, don’t… I’m fine,” Danny says through clenched teeth.

 

“Jesus Danny, you are so far from fine it’s not even funny. We need to get you to the hospital.”

 

“Steve. They’re just bruises. There’s nothing a hospital can do for that,” his tone is unyielding. “Look,” he continues as though there is no more discussion to be had, “I don’t think I can lift my arms up to take the t-shirt off... do you think you can help me with that?” Danny closes his eyes to Steve’s intense scrutiny, but making it very clear that he is going nowhere.

 

Steve reaches into one of the pockets of his cargo pants and pulls out a small knife, flicking it open and reaching for Danny’s t-shirt. Carefully, he slits the bottom of the material and then grabs the two edges and rips the shirt apart from hem to neck. Danny keeps his eyes closed, knowing that what Steve is about to see will likely cause him to go ballistic. He had caught a small glimpse of it himself on the airplane when he slipped into the bathroom and gingerly lifted up his shirt and looked in the mirror. As soon as he saw the barest hint of the injuries, though, he had quickly dropped his shirt back down, not at all wanting to see the full extent Of the damage.

 

As Steve next slips the t-shirt off Danny’s arms, and both sides of his torso are revealed, Danny is surprised that Steve stays remarkably silent. When he opens his eyes, he sees Steve staring at his body as though in a trance, his eyes flicking between Danny’s front, and the reflection of his back in the mirror behind them. Danny has no idea what his back looks like, but since it had borne the brunt of many of the kicks he had received, he guesses it actually is worse than his front, which, as he briefly looks down his body now, he sees is literally a single, marbled mass of black, blue, and purple.

 

When Steve finally looks up at his partner’s face, Danny sees a look of rage in his eyes the likes of which he has never seen before. Steve is frozen in place, his shaking hands holding Danny’s now-shredded shirt.

 

“Steve,” Danny says quietly, placing his right hand on Steve’s left. Steve startles as though he hadn’t been seeing Danny before, and Danny notices his partner’s eyes glistening. ‘I’m home… I’m okay… I’m good,” he tries to reassure.

 

Steve doesn’t say anything but drops the t-shirt and moves his hands down and starts to carefully remove Danny’s pants and underwear. A raw, pained noise escapes Steve as he slips the pants down Danny’s legs and sees how the damage continues down his thighs and calves.

 

Steve forcibly gains control of his emotions, knowing Danny doesn’t need to deal with Steve’s issues right now, and reaches past his partner to start the shower, making sure it will be good and hot. While they wait for the water to heat up, Steve methodically strips himself of his own clothes as Danny watches silently, and then he gently urges Danny into the shower with him.

 

Once under the spray, Danny simply stands still, understanding that Steve needs to take care of him now and letting him do it. Besides, he’s not really sure he has it in him to much else; his body is one huge mass of pain, difficult to isolate and define, throbbing with every beat of his heart. But at least he can tell his heart is still beating.

 

Steve gently washes Danny’s hair and then pushes his head under the spray to rinse. Then he grabs the soap, foaming up a large lather, and uses his bare hands to, very carefully, wash the grime from Danny’s body. He does not press hard, but skims his hands in circles over every inch of him. Steve keeps his touch as feather-light as possible, but still elicits an occasional gasp or moan from his partner. Each time it happens, Steve quickly apologizes and then, inside, fantasizes about hunting down that CIA fucker and hitting and kicking him ten times for each hit and kick Danny has received.

 

Steve thinks he can count most of the individual blows that Danny’s body received. Although the bruises from most of them have now literally bled into each other, he can make out the impact points and he actually counts dozens before he stops the mental torture of trying to catalog each one. When Steve had first slid the t-shirt from Danny’s body and seen the extent of the damage beneath, he had to use every bit of self-control he could muster not to punch his fist through the wall. Steve has seen a lot of injured men in his life, but never has he seen, firsthand, a beating this extreme. Nearly every inch of Danny’s body is covered in hideous, mottled colors that should not be there – should never be on another human being – but especially not on Danny. As Steve had seethed, mentally vowing revenge, once again it was Danny who comforted _him_ , rather than the other way around as it should have been. So Steve had gathered his composure and continued the task of undressing Danny and getting them into the shower.

 

When he finishes washing his partner, Steve steps close to Danny, who is centered under the spray, and gently nudges Danny to lean in. He does - ever so slightly - and rests his forehead on Steve’s collarbone. They stand there quietly for a couple of minutes while Danny pants shallowly and tries to gather enough strength for the next step in the process of getting into that bed he so desperately seeks.

 

“Okay,” Danny mumbles softly after a few moments, and Steve reaches behind him to turn off the shower. He opens the stall door and grabs a towel, waiting with it spread open for Danny to carefully step out himself. Steve wipes Danny’s body very gently, just barely touching him as he pats the towel around his partner’s body. Once Danny's more or less dry, Steve steps back, puts toothpaste on toothbrush and hands it to Danny, and then goes to fetch some clothes.

 

Danny does his best to brush his teeth, though it’s tough when you can hardly reach your arms up and your mouth and lips are bruised and swollen. Still, his mouth feels a million times better by the time Steve gets back and helps Danny into a loose pair of boxers and a baggy t-shirt. Danny can’t help but smile a little when he sees that it is Steve’s favorite, soft, faded Naval Academy t-shirt.

 

They move into the bedroom and Steve walks him over to the bed, pulling the sheet and blanket back for him to get in, and then over him once he has situated himself. Danny groans in relief as he relaxes into the soft bed that, just a day ago, he thought he would never see again.

 

“When was the last time you had anything to eat?” Steve asks, looking sharply at Danny.

 

“I don’t know… a couple days ago…?” Danny answers. He had some water on the plane, he knows that, but when exactly he ate that plate of beans and rice they had shoved at him in the prison, he has no idea.

 

“I’m going to get you something to eat, I’ll be right back.”

 

“I don’t want anything,” Danny mumbles, his eyes already closed.

 

“You need to eat Danny, your body needs the fuel to help heal itself. Just something small for now. I’ll be right back.” Steve’s tone makes it clear that he will not concede this point, so Danny doesn’t argue.

 

“Do not bring me any of that ridiculous butter-coffee because I will not drink that!” Danny semi-yells at Steve’s back as he leaves the room.

 

When Steve hears Danny’s pronouncement as he is heading down the stairs, tears that he has been holding back finally spring free from his eyes – partly the result of the rage he feels, but partly in relief, as Danny has just sounded like Danny for the first time since he got off that plane. When Steve gets to the kitchen, he pauses, hands on the counter, and drops his head down, letting the tears flow unchecked for about thirty seconds. After his self-allotted half-minute of self-indulgence, he stands back up, wipes his face and gets on with the task of making some food for Danny; this is no time for him to lose his shit – Danny needs him right now.

 

His body craves the ocean, where tears will not be noticed, and where he can try to swim away the fury he feels toward his mother and the CIA. But that will have to wait – possibly for some time – because he will not be letting Danny out of his sight any time soon. He thinks about Danny’s patience, care and tenderness after his run-in with Wo Fat, and Steve is determined to take care of Danny in just the same way. Now, thinking about the bruises on Danny’s face and jaw, he sets about making scrambled eggs, and toast drenched in butter to soften it, hoping to make the food as painless to eat as possible.

 

Upstairs Danny lies in the bed, desperately wishing he could drift off to sleep to escape the deep and constant pain. The shower had helped a tiny bit, loosening his tight muscles a fraction, but they are quickly stiffening up again. He badly does not want to eat anything – his stomach feels on the brink of upheaval - but he sighs, knowing there is no point in arguing with Steve about it because he knows his partner will not let it go and he is too damn tired and sore to argue.

 

A short time later, Steve comes back with some scrambled eggs and toast, and Danny smiles at what is not at all ‘something small’ but rather looks like it must be at least six eggs heaped on the plate, plus three pieces of soggy-looking toast. Steve hands him the plate and sets a glass of orange juice on the table next to the bed.

 

“So me and what army is going to eat all this?” Danny asks with mild amusement.

 

“Just eat as much as you can,” Steve replies, eyeing him as though he is fragile enough to fall apart at any second, and it occurs to Danny that he just might.

 

Danny picks up the fork and slowly brings small bites up to his mouth. He can see that Steve is itching to help him – he would probably feed him outright if he thought Danny would allow it. He eats several bites and then puts the fork down, too exhausted and in too much pain to eat any more, and his stomach is feeling more and more like it might start to rebel. Steve looks at him and Danny can see he is trying to decide whether to push Danny to eat more, but (thankfully) he doesn’t and instead takes the plate and sets it on the table by the bed.

 

Steve turns and walks into the bathroom, returning a few seconds later with a bottle of pills. Danny recognizes it as one of a few virtually-untouched prescriptions of pain killers that Steve has been given for one injury or another. He hands two Vicodin and the glass of orange juice to Danny and Danny doesn’t protest, popping the pills in his mouth and swallowing them down with the juice – he’d take anything to try to take the edge off his pain and get some sleep.

 

“Tomorrow, first thing, we are going to the hospital. I’m not going to argue with you about it, Danny. You’ve probably got some cracked or broken ribs, at the very least.”

 

Danny can tell that Steve is going to be unbendable on the issue, so he just nods. “Yeah, okay, whatever. I’m gonna go to sleep now.” He had already decided a trip to the hospital might not be a bad idea after he had shuffled into the bathroom while Steve was downstairs, and saw that he was pissing no small amount of blood. He figures his kidneys are just bruised – God knows, he took several hits there – but he also figures it would probably be a smart idea to get it checked out. He just can’t tonight… not tonight. Tonight he needs to be _here_ , at home, in his bed, with Steve beside him.

 

When Steve returns from taking the dishes to the kitchen and locking the house, he is relieved to see that Danny is fast asleep, escaping, at least momentarily, from the constant agony he knows his partner is suffering. Steve stretches out on the bed next to Danny, lying on his side, and staring at him. Steve is sure he has never seen anyone so badly beaten and battered. Part of him wants a detailed explanation of everything that happened to his partner, but part of him never wants to hear a single detail. It makes him feel physically ill to see Danny this way, and to know that he had sacrificed himself for Steve. He reaches his hand out and gently encircles Danny’s wrist, one of the few spots on his body that has suffered little damage.

 

Steve wasn’t kidding when he said they were going to the hospital first thing; and once Danny has recovered a bit, he plans to have a serious conversation with his partner about the choices he had made. He is horrified that Danny had willingly surrendered himself for Steve, signing a waiver of extradition because that CIA asshole implied Steve would be accompanying him if he didn’t. That was so many kinds of wrong that Steve can’t even wrap his mind around it. Tears well in his eyes again as he thinks of Danny’s willingness to sacrifice his life for Steve’s; to possibly never see Grace again. Steve honestly doesn’t understand what Danny could have been thinking.

 

He knew Danny had been internally struggling these last several months with his actions in Colombia, but he had no idea that Danny’s guilt had run so deep – so deep that he would simply give up without a fight, apparently feeling that he deserved whatever punishment was being meted out. And that call to Grace… he needs to know what that was about; Rachel had said it had terrified her, leaving her hysterical with fear and confusion. As Steve looks at Danny in the dim light of the bedroom, he wonders what other secrets are hidden beneath his partner’s battered façade.

 

He hadn’t intended on sleeping, planning to keep watch over his partner as he slept, but the emotional and physical toll of the last few days apparently caught up with him and, an indeterminate time later, Steve is startled awake, thinking he has heard something. He panics when he realizes Danny is no longer in the bed beside him, and he jumps up, moving swiftly toward the retching sounds he can hear coming from the bathroom. He hits the light switch to find a very pale and sweaty Danny leaning over the toilet, vomiting up the dinner Steve had fed him earlier.

 

Danny turns and blinks as the light flicks on, squinting at Steve. “I should have listened to the travel agent… she told me not to drink the water,” Danny tries to joke, but it falls flat, and he immediately leans over the toilet bowl as his stomach contracts again, returning more of its contents up the down stairway.  “Actually, I think it’s the Vicodin,” Danny says, panting and squeezing his eyes shut against the pain. After a moment of trying to gain control, he spits into the toilet bowl and flushes the contents away. “I forgot that it doesn’t sit well with me.”

 

“Jesus, Danny, I’m sorry,” Steve starts, but Danny weakly lifts his right hand and waves him off.

 

“Not your fault. You didn’t know and I forgot... I don’t know how I could’a, really, since the last time this happened, I spent the night on the bathroom floor with my knee in a brace… talk about uncomfortable. Guess I wasn’t thinking too clearly before,” Danny sighs, pain and weariness infused in his voice.

 

Steve moves toward Danny and slides down the wall next to him, gently circling his fingers around Danny’s wrist again. Danny gives him a weak smile but then suddenly pulls his hand free, turning quickly to vomit once again. Steve notes that Danny has nothing left to expel and is working largely on dry heaves and bile now, and he thinks about how incredibly fucking painful each contraction must be on his abused muscles and ribs. One glance at Danny’s face when he lifts his head again tells the whole story. He is pale and sweating, shaking in pain, the agony visible in every bit of his countenance.

 

Steve looks at Danny and considers: they could wait until morning - several hours from now – and go to the hospital then as they discussed; meanwhile, Danny might spend those hours here, on the bathroom floor, racked in pain, and only making himself feel worse. Or, he could get Danny to the hospital now, where they could check him over, give him an anti-emetic and some pain killers that would help rather than hurt. It takes Steve all of two seconds to make his decision. He gets up, goes back into the bedroom and grabs his phone, and then walks back into the bathroom.

 

“What are you doing?” Danny asks, his voice rough and gravely, but alert with suspicion.

 

Steve ignores him and holds the phone to his ear. “Yeah, this is Steve McGarrett from Five-0, I need an ambulance dispatched to my home…”

 

“No!” Danny groans. “Please, Steve… don’t,” but his plea goes unanswered as Steve rattles off the address and hangs up the phone. “Why did you do that?” Danny just barely manages to get out before he turns to retch into the toilet again.

 

“That’s why, Danny. You need a hospital; I never should have brought you home in the first place. You’re in terrible pain, you’re vomiting non-stop, which can only be making the pain ten times worse, you’re probably dehydrated, and you need to rest. We can’t take care of any of that here, Danno. You _need_ to be in a hospital.”

 

Danny just sighs and closes his eyes, too exhausted to debate the issue, and honestly, half-agreeing that Steve is probably right. “Okay… okay… but… help me downstairs… I am not going to have them scrape me off the bathroom floor and carry me downstairs on a gurney.”

 

“Danny, it’s probably best if they do,” Steve counters, now squatting next to his partner and eyeing him with great concern. His condition seems to be deteriorating by the moment and Steve isn’t convinced Danny will make it downstairs even if he tries.

 

“Steve, please. I’m agreeing to go… just… give me this, will you?”

 

“Okay, Danno,” Steve sighs with his own exhaustion, conceding the point, but hoping Danny sees reason once he actually stands up. He reaches out to offer Danny a hand up, and pulls him to his feet as carefully as he possibly can. Danny lets out a long groan and has to pause for a moment once upright in order to let the waves of debilitating pain subside a bit before starting to move. He creeps slowly down the hall, Steve at his elbow waiting to reach out and help if necessary, and then stops at the top of the stairs, fearful at how daunting they looked.

 

“Danny, how about we wait here, and let them take you down…” Steve suggests.

 

“No,” is Danny’s staunch reply as he grasps the handrail and takes his first tentative step down. He keeps a deathgrip on the rail as he makes his descent, one step at a time, arriving at the bottom a sweating, shaking mess. When he gets to the ground floor, Danny’s legs finally buckle and he would have fallen flat on his face except that Steve is there and ready and catches his partner as gently as he can, easing Danny to the floor as he whimpers in agony.

 

Steve can hear the ambulance approaching in the distance so he quickly runs to the front door, disarming the alarm and opening it wide before returning to Danny’s side, trying to soothe him as he pants out guttural noises of pain.

 

“Help me take this shirt off,” Danny suddenly demands with urgency, pawing at the hem of the t-shirt.

 

“Danny, what are you doing? Just leave it,” Steve says, confused and trying to gently settle Danny back down.

 

“No… no… they’ll cut it off…” Danny says frantically, trying to extricate himself from the shirt and causing new waves of pain to assault his body.

 

“Danny, who cares!” Steve practically yells, concern rising as he sees Danny’s face contort in pain from his efforts

 

“No… it’s your favorite… it’s _my_ favorite…” Danny whimpers, barely coherent anymore.

 

Steve’s face softens and tears unexpectedly well in his eyes at Danny’s sentimentality. “Okay, Danno, okay. Just relax, I’ll do it. You just sit still, okay?” Steve says softly, and begins to very carefully remove the shirt.

 

A minute later, the ambulance pulls into the driveway and the EMTs are there within seconds. Steve notes the quick looks of shock they shoot to each other as they see the damage visible on Danny’s body and assess the situation. They pepper rapid-fire questions at them, but it is Steve who answers them all since Danny is concentrating hard on breathing through his pain and doesn’t even seem to register the conversation going on above him.

 

Within a couple of minutes, they have moved Danny onto the gurney – the required maneuvering causing him to yell in pain, and Steve to vibrate with rage again – and are pushing him quickly into the ambulance. As Steve starts to climb into the back, the EMT puts up a hand and tries to stop him, but Steve just flashes his badge and simply states, “Not negotiable,” in a way that make it very clear that there is no way they are going to remove him from the vehicle.

 

Once they arrive at the hospital, Steve sticks with Danny into the exam cubical in the emergency room, trying to stay unobtrusively near the wall so that no one gets the idea to try to kick him out. He cringes when he hears a nurse gasp as the sheet covering him is pulled down to expose his battered and bruised body. A minute later, two doctors and another nurse enter the cubicle and Steve knows he’s done for. There’s little room in the exam area and his is told in no uncertain terms that he must leave.

 

He makes his way out to the waiting room and settles in for what he knows will be a long and torturous stay. He thinks about calling the rest of the team but decides against it, given that it is the middle of the night and there’s no point in waking them all just so they can sit here and wait for answers, too. Instead he sends them quick texts, letting them know the situation and asking if they would mind finding a way to get his truck down here to him sometime later in the morning.

 

When the doctor finally comes out about two hours later, Steve bolts upright and meets him before he can take more than a few steps toward him. “Commander McGarrett?”

 

“How is he?” Steve rushes his words out.

 

“He’s resting. He’ll be fine… eventually. He has four cracked ribs and all the others are bruised. His kidneys are badly bruised as well… had you not noticed that he’s been passing blood in his urine?”

 

“Uh…” Steve’s mind is racing. How could he have not thought about that? “I don’t… I don’t know. I guess I didn’t see…”

 

The doctor waves him off impatiently and continues. “He is dehydrated, so we’ve got him on IV fluids and morphine for the pain. Besides the ribs and obvious extensive bruising, the kidneys are the worst of the injuries. He’s very lucky; he could have suffered much worse internal bleeding. You really should have brought him to the hospital straight away, Commander.” The doctor’s tone is filled with reproach, but Steve lets out a huge sigh of relief.  

 

“I tried, but he’s a stubborn man,” Steve says, sounding contrite.

 

The doctor softens a bit. “Quite honestly, I don’t really understand how he has possibly been up and moving around at all; with the amount of damage his body sustained, the pain should have been pretty much completely debilitating.”

 

“Uh, yeah… you heard that part about him being stubborn, right?” Steve says again, but feeling increasingly guilty about his decision to give in to Danny’s pleas not to come to the hospital.

 

The doctor gives him a weak smile. “Well, we’ll keep him here at least twenty-four hours and then reassess. There’s not much to be done for him at this point beyond hydration and getting him pain relief so he can rest and get his body started on its recovery.”

 

“What does the prognosis look like?” Steve asks nervously.

 

“Well, as I said, none of the injuries are severe in their own right. But don’t kid yourself. He’s going to be in a lot of pain for a very long time. Weeks… months, maybe. Rib injuries are some of the most painful, and every one of his ribs is involved. Plus the extensive soft-tissue damage. That often takes even longer to heal than bone-breaks and is just as painful, sometime much worse. He’s going to need physical therapy, and possibly some occupational therapy as he heals, to get him back on track. You can probably take him home in a day or two, but mostly bed rest for a week, at least, and after that, we’ll see.”

 

Steve blows out a loud breath. “Yeah, okay, thank you. Can I… can I see him?”

 

“Yes, but don’t expect much. He’s out now and I don’t expect him to wake for several hours.” With that, the doctor turns and calls for a nurse to please escort Steve to Danny’s room.

 

\--------

 

Several days later, Steve emerges from the ocean to see Danny sitting in his chair by the beach. Steve can’t stop himself from smiling; Danny had rested well the night before and the fact that he had made it out of bed and all the way out here says volumes about how much better he is feeling since coming home – or at least how well the pain killers are working. Still, there is no question that Danny is going to be fairly disabled for a long time, and Steve knows they are in for an extended and painful recovery. Rage flickers in him again, but he tamps it down and broadens his smile as he approaches his partner, trying to embrace the fact that they are incredibly lucky that Danny is here at all.

 

Steve grabs a towel and wipes at his hair and body and then sits down next to his partner. “Did you talk to Grace?”

 

“Yeah. Rachel will bring her over later today and then she’s catching a flight back to Vegas tonight.” Danny pauses for a second, scrutinizing his partner. “Are you sure you’re okay with this? I… I’m not going to be able to do a lot of the normal ‘dad-duties’ stuff… I know you know that there is a certain amount of hauling of adolescents around, but I’m not sure you’re aware of what that really means.”

 

“Danny, it’s fine,” Steve laughs. “You know I’ve taken care of Grace on my own every now and then. I know what it entails. Besides, I’m a Navy SEAL, I think I can handle it.”

 

“Trust me, babe, nothing they taught you at BUD/S can prepare you for the experience of carpooling three or four gossiping, giggling twelve-year-olds in your car.”

 

A happy grin spreads across Steve’s face. “Challenge accepted,” he says, looking at Danny with a gleam in his eye.

 

“Okay, but don’t say I didn’t warn you,” Danny replies with affection.

 

“I really am look forward to it, Danno,” he says with surprising tenderness in his voice, and Danny can’t help giving him a dazzling smile, which Steve finds gorgeous despite the continued discoloration around his face.

 

“I know you are, babe. Thanks.”

 

They sit in silence for a moment before Steve turns toward Danny, deciding that now – before Grave arrives – he should ask the question that has been eating at him since Danny’s return.

 

“Can I ask you something?” Steve asks tentatively.

 

“Okay…” Danny says, reading Steve’s disquiet and feeling a little of his own nervousness creep in.

 

“Rachel told me you called Grace. From Colombia.”

 

“Was that a question?” Danny says, employing an obvious delay tactic.

 

Steve lets out a small noise of frustration and continues. “What was that about, Danny? How were you able to do it? Rachel said Grace was hysterical and terrified when you hung up… what did you say to her?”

 

“First no question, and now three…” Danny says, trying to stall some more, not at all wanting to have this conversation.

 

“Danny,” Steve says firmly, with his ‘I won’t put up with your bullshit right now’ voice.

 

Danny sighs and puts his head back, looking up at the endlessly blue sky. “I… they let me make a call…” Danny starts but then stops, having difficulty putting words to the experience that he wants nothing more than to forget.

 

“Why would they do that?” Steve asks, knowing that prisoner phone calls in Colombian prisons are not SOP.

 

Danny sighs again. “Steve…” he says, making it clear that he does not want to talk about it.

 

“Danny. Please. I… I need to understand what happened. You don’t have to give me every gory detail, but just… can’t you tell me what happened down there?”

 

Danny looks at Steve in surprise. His plea has caught Danny off guard; it hadn’t occurred to him that Steve would be bothered by this, and it wasn’t really as though he was actually trying to keep things a secret, he just didn’t particularly want to relive the experience by telling the story. Besides, he had thought it was pretty self-evident what had happened to him – he had the shit beaten out of him. Danny hadn’t known that Steve knew about his phone call to Grace, though, or that he had apparently wanted to ask him about it. _That_ he _had_ deliberately kept from Steve – and everyone – because it was a moment in his life that he never wanted to think about again. But after all they have been through together, Danny does feel that perhaps he owes it to Steve to give him the answers he is seeking, so he takes a deep breath, braces himself for the emotional onslaught he knows will be coming, and tries his best to explain.

 

“Okay, listen to me. It’s no big secret. South American prisons are no picnic and there’s a lot of corruption. The guards let some prisoners loose on me and they beat the crap out of me. Then when the guards broke it up, they let me know that if I didn’t want it to happen every day, I needed to pay them.” Danny pauses, gathering his emotional reserves. “I told them I’d get them some money but I needed to make a phone call.”

 

“And you called _Grace_? Why would you _do_ that?” Steve asks, astonished.

 

Danny stiffens at the slightly accusatory tone in Steve’s voice, but continues. “I don’t know… I just… I honestly thought I was going to die in there, sooner rather than later,” Danny stops for a second as he sees Steve flinch at those words, and then continues, “…and I just… I needed to talk to Grace one last time. I needed to tell her I loved her. I needed her to _hear me say that_ one last time. Now... I get it – I mean, I know it was stupid… that I scared her and, Christ, I probably damaged her for life. But right then, it was all I could think about.” Danny sighs again and looks out at the ocean. “They caught on pretty quickly that I wasn’t doing anything to get money for them. They yanked the cord from the wall and then proceeded to beat the shit out of me. That’s where the worst of the injuries came from, I think.”

 

When Steve doesn’t say anything, Danny eventually turns his head and looks over at him. His partner is staring with that look of murderous aneurysm-face, and Danny laughs a little, breaking himself out of his own dark thoughts.

 

“It’s not funny, Danny. I don’t understand… Why didn’t you call _me_? I could have _gotten_ you some money – kept you alive in there indefinitely. Grace couldn’t do that for Christ’s sake! Did you think I wouldn’t have done anything at all to help you?” Danny can tell from Steve’s tone that he is hurt and frustrated by Danny’s actions.

 

“I know. Look, I’m sorry, okay? I… I wasn’t thinking clearly. I was scared. And, yes, of course I know that you would have done anything you could have to help. But _in that moment_ , I honestly didn’t think I’d survive long enough for anyone to get me _any_ money, and the only thing I could think of was Grace. I just needed to hear her voice one last time.”

 

“Christ, Danny,” Steve whispered, “I am so sorry, man.” And Danny hears that the hurt and frustration in his voice has turned to renewed sadness and grief for what Danny has experienced.

 

“Steve, you have nothing to be sorry for,” he tries to reassure him. “None of it was your fault. I made my own choices, and set myself down that path the second I squeezed that trigger in Colombia.”

 

Danny looks at Steve, and there’s something there in his eyes, something that Danny has been seeing for days. It’s like he wants to tell him something but can’t quite bring himself to. Much like after the run-in with Wo Fat, Danny can see that Steve has something to say, but he hasn’t been ready to say whatever it is yet. So again, for the last several days, Danny has waited for Steve to arrive at the point where he’s ready to talk. When they had started this conversation, Danny had thought that this was it – this was what Steve was working up to. But Danny can see now that while his phone call to Grace has been bothering Steve, even though they’ve discussed it, the edgy, guarded look is still there in his partner’s eyes.

 

A moment later, realization comes over Danny and when Steve sees it happen, he quickly turns his face away, guilt and shame written all over it.

 

“Oh God, Doris is tied up in all this mess somehow, isn’t she?” Danny asks, hoping against hope that he is wrong. But Steve doesn’t answer, confirming Danny’s suspicions.

 

“Christ, what did she do?” Danny asks, not entirely sure he really wants to know. Somehow, almost all the worst episodes in their lives seems to always lead back to Doris, who seems to leave a trail of damage and destruction in her wake wherever she goes. Danny is quite honestly getting pretty fucking sick of it.

 

“She hung you out to dry, Danny,” Steve says, still unable to look his partner in the eye for the horror he feels that his mother’s actions nearly got Danny killed – _had_ caused him unfathomable pain and suffering.

 

“Tell me,” Danny demands, and Steve slowly gives Danny the account that he had received from Joe.

 

Danny lets it all sink in for a moment before he speaks, and when he does, he chooses his words carefully. “She chose to protect you, Steve. I can’t blame her for that. I was trying to do the same thing.”

 

“But _you_ made your own choice – which I am still pissed as hell at you about by the way. _She_ sacrificed you on the fucking CIA’s altar, _knowing_ who you are to me… how important you are. She threw you to the wolves, Danny, knowing an American cop would never survive in a fucking Colombian prison! She…” but Steve’s anger is so vivid, so all-encompassing, that he can’t continue.

 

“Look, Steve, from what you just told me, there’s no indication or evidence that Doris had anything to do with my arrest and extradition. Protecting you, and being responsible for what happened to me, aren’t necessarily the same thing. And quite honestly, nothing you’ve said makes me think she was.”

 

“Don’t! She shouldn’t have chosen me over you…”

 

“What, are you crazy? _Of course_ she should have! _You’re_ her child. I’m not,” Danny counters. “As a parent, I… I can understand why she did what she did. If it was Grace… I don’t know that I would have done any differently.”

 

“Bullshit, Danny! You would never do that to another person – ever! You’re not the same kind of heartless person she is.”

 

“Steve, it sounds like she risked a lot to protect you. She’s your mother – her actions pretty clearly say she is concerned about you.”

 

“ _GODDAMMIT!_   Why is it that every time we discuss Doris, you end up defending her?” Steve yells in frustration.

 

“Look, it’s very questionable whether she had any hand at all in putting me in that place, but what is not in question is that she kept _you_ safe and _she_ got you the intel that got me out. I’m inclined to feel a little grateful for Doris at the moment.” Danny’s voice is raised now as well.

 

“Are you fucking kidding me with this? First you pull that extradition bullshit and now you’re defending Doris?”

 

“Steven! What the hell good would it have done for both of us to be locked up in that place? _Huh?_ Listen to what you’re saying! The _only_ reason I’m alive and here right now is because _Doris_ kept you clear of it and _you_ got me out. No one else in the world _would_ have or _could_ have done that for me. If you had been in that prison with me, we’d _both_ be dead now. _Think_ about that for a second, would you please?!” Danny’s face is red and he’s breathing heavily, each deep breath causing sharp pains to shoot through his chest.

 

“Danny, calm down… you need to relax. You’re going to hurt yourself,” Steve reaches out to touch his partner, eyes wide with concern.

 

“Yeah, well, then stop being such an idiot,” Danny says, much more softly. “I am finding myself thanking God right now for Doris doing what she did, and while I understand why you are pissed – and yes, there is a part of me that is definitely pissed, too – it still got us the best possible outcome. We’re both here and we’re both alive, and my beautiful daughter will be here soon and I’ll be able to give her a hug and tell her how much I love her. I can only be grateful for that, and I will not pretend that Doris doesn’t deserve some of that gratitude - and you shouldn’t either.”

 

Steve looks at his partner, most of the wind taken out of his sails - because, Danny’s right. The way things played out was probably the only way it could have to leave them both alive and here together with each other and Grace. After a minute of Danny scrutinizing him intensely, Steve mumbles, “Okay, Danny, okay. Maybe you’re right.”

 

“Of course I’m right. Now, can you do me a favor and help me back inside? I’m beat and think I could use some rest before Grace arrives… I don’t want her to see me looking like crap.”

 

Steve bites his tongue against the retort that it’s far too late for that; Danny still looks like hell, worse in some ways, since many of the bruises have begun to turn hideous shades of green and yellow. But he understand that Danny means that he doesn’t want Grace to see him looking worn and exhausted, so he gets up and extends a hand down to Danny, pulling him gently to his feet.  

 

“Come on, Danno. Let’s tuck you into bed,” Steve says with a little bit of mischief in his voice.

 

“You think you are funny, but you are not. One of these days – probably in the distant future, I grant you – I will be well enough to make you pay for every crack you are making during my convalescence. And believe me when I say that I _will_ make you pay.”

 

“I think I might actually look forward to that,” Steve says with a twinkle in his eye as he bends down and gives Danny a sweet kiss on the mouth, slipping his tongue in for just a second.

 

Danny groans in appreciation and Steve holds Danny loosely around his waist, and does it again. Danny pulls away a few moments later, groaning now in frustration and resting his head on Steve’s collarbone. “How long did the doctor say before we can - how did he put it – ‘resume normal relations’?”

 

“A long time, Danny. You can barely move around or sit up for more than a half-hour at a time… you know it would hurt like hell if we tried to actually have sex. Sorry, I shouldn’t have done that,” Steve says, sounding guilty.  

 

“Stop flagellating yourself, Steven, and come tuck me in,” Danny says before reaching up for one more, quick kiss.

 

“My pleasure,” Steve smiles down at his partner, thinking for the millionth time how thankful he is to have Danny back home safely, and admitting for the first time, that maybe he just might have Doris to thank for it.

 

After Steve gets Danny settled back in bed and gives him his pain meds, he goes back outside to sit in his chair, hoping the calming effect of the waves will help settle his chaotic thoughts. He had spent the last week or so seething in anger over Doris’ actions, blaming her for damage Danny had suffered. And Danny, in his typical fashion, had turned his thought process completely on its head.

 

He realizes Danny is right, and he now finds himself grateful for some of the things that Doris did. But there are so many unanswered questions, too, and he doesn’t know what the hell to make of them. He’s not ready to let her completely off the hook; if she was able to keep Steve in the clear, why couldn’t she do the same for Danny? Did she even try? If she knew where the drugs were, why didn’t she let her own organization know so they wouldn’t have come after Danny in the first place?

 

Maybe she didn’t know they would and her protecting Steve was an after-the-fact mad scramble. Maybe. He’s not sure he’s ready to give her the benefit of the doubt yet, but his anger toward her is definitely dissipating.  

 

What he needs is to confront Doris… talk to her himself. Look her in the eyes and ask her for the truth, once and for all. Months ago, Danny had told him he needed exactly that, but he had balked. Now he knows for certain – he does want to see Doris - to ask her those questions that have gone unanswered for too long. Whether he’ll believe her or not, he has no idea, but he does know that he definitely wants the opportunity to finally confront her.

 

An hour or so later, his mind calmed and his thoughts ordered for the first time in days, Steve goes back into the house and heads to the kitchen to start making Grace and Danny’s favorite spaghetti and meatballs for dinner.

 

 

 

     

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! And I always love to hear your thoughts!
> 
>  
> 
> (So if any of you are following my 'Sessions' series, I'm thinking that I will not be posting a chapter for s5e18 because whenever I think about what that session might be like, in my head it sounds just like the conversation between Steve and Danny at the end of this fic... it feels like it would be redundant...)


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